


the fight or flight response

by doreah



Category: Episodes (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, F/F, F/M, happy endings for all wlw 20gayteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doreah/pseuds/doreah
Summary: (or 5 times helen wasn't supposed to be there and 1 time she was)





	1. the daytime emmys afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> So this was basically a random thought that popped into my head as I was re-watching a few episodes for another fic I was writing.
> 
> When talking about Helen, Carol states, “I see her all the time now at industry things. It's actually fine. She acts like nothing happened but come on, I broke up her marriage! You think she's gonna want me as her number two?” And I wondered how that would have gone. Then as I was rewatching the S2 finale, this fic was born.

 

Sure.

Of course, she'd known Ed was married. Everybody knew that. He had two young kids, as well. The photos were propped up like set dressings in his fancy office. A young, plain-looking wife with an equally bland little boy and little girl, all together in one of those department store looking photoshoots complete with posed smiles and awkward hand positions. It could have easily been a stock picture for all anybody knew. So, yeah, combined with that wedding band on his finger, it was no secret to anybody that he was married with children.

 

Nobody really cared, least of all Ed.

 

It really hadn't taken him much coaxing to get Carol's panties around her ankles in his office late one evening. It could be said, at that time in her life, she was actually even eager for it. There was just something about men like him that was undeniably attractive; something she saw in them that made her quiver a little, _everywhere_. More than attractive then: irresistible. She was so young and he was so charismatic, so magnetic. These men, they exuded power, and strength, and a complete disinterest in anybody else's pleasure but their own. They took whatever they wanted, when they wanted, how they wanted. It was beautiful, and deep down in a corner of her psyche that she wasn't even aware existed, part of Carol was jealous of it. She wanted it too. She wanted to touch that, to own it, to live it just the same and if she wasn't quite there herself, she'd damnwell suck it up any way she could manage.

 

And, yes, things with Ed did involve a lot of _sucking_. He was just lucky she had been so naive and eager to please.

 

A lot of people in the office had been positively buzzing about the Daytime Emmys this year and the sheer number of nominations ABC had received for their soaps. In less than 3 hours, a select gaggle of executives and talent would be in some majestic theater to swallow up more Emmys than they'd ever had before. A least that was the hope. Carol of course was not invited. She wasn't a writer, director, editor, actor, executive. She was just one of a larger team of administrative grunts who did all the real work, a glorified and slightly warped version of an executive assistant.

 

But the entire office had been invited to the afterparty at a swanky hotel with comped drinks all night long and a crowd of designer suits and dresses. It was her first real Hollywood party and despite the fact she'd be clad in a rented gown, borrowed shoes, and faux diamonds, she was ready to shine because if inspirational posters were to be believed: today was the first day of the rest of her new, exciting life.

 

Plus, she was screwing the boss.

 

That had to be worth something.

 

She tried not to wince when Ed tore a stitch on her Monique Lhuillier dress as he hiked it up around her hips in the handicapped washroom next door to the raging, celebratory party room. Hopefully the rental place wouldn't notice; hopefully it wouldn't tear more. Thrusting manically into her as if in some sort of rush, he breathlessly repeated to her all the awards they'd snagged during the ceremony and what it meant for projected advertising revenues. With a grunt it was all over and he gave her friendly pat on the shoulder as if she was some sort of teammate on a baseball team, unceremoniously stuffing himself back in his $4000 slacks. He didn't even say thank you, at the very least.

 

She tried not wince even more when Ed's gaze completely passed over her as he introduced her fellow co-workers to big wig friends of his at other networks and agencies. Maybe he just hadn't seen her. That must have been what happened, she repeatedly assured herself.

 

Instead, he actively ignored her for most of the night after that incident in the bathroom until he finally found somebody to introduce her to, someone he obviously felt was more on her amateurish level: his wife.

 

That was the first time she ever met Helen Moran, who would, in just a few months, revert back to her maiden surname, Basch. She certainly didn't look as young and fresh as the photos in Ed's office made it seem, but she wasn't particularly old either. In all honesty, Carol begrudgingly found her rather stunning in her dress that likely rivalled Carol's entire 3-month salary, and there was something knowing, shrewd and discerning, about her warm brown-eyed gaze. It made Carol only slightly uncomfortable despite the plastered on smiles and solid but not ungentle handshake. More likely, it was her own guilt that was the cause of her skin tingling and her pulse racing to panic attack levels.

 

Ed left them quickly, clearly unconcerned that Carol was going to leak any extramarital dalliances of his. It was pretty bold considering just an hour ago he had pumped her full of cum and left her to sort herself out in a dark toilet stall. After a few moments of pleasantries, Helen gestured at her.

 

“Well, you look _great_ ,” she said, and for the first time all evening, Carol felt herself blush, just a little. A few people had complimented her but they'd seemed perfunctory and insincere, like bad actors saying their expected lines. Meanwhile, Ed hadn't said anything about her appearance at all. He'd barely given her a twice-over before motioning with a thumb to the bathroom.

 

It was difficult to withhold the embarrassed (maybe even flattered) giggle and pushed down the overwhelming guilt about stealing this seemingly nice woman's husband. “Thanks. I mean, of course, so do you.” She wasn't lying either. There was something about her boss's wife that exuded a subtle danger, or... something else that Carol couldn't quite place.

 

“Oh, this old thing?” Helen smirked, her eyes sparkling and took a sip of her cocktail.

 

Carol wondered what was wrong with this woman. She seemed smart, nice, funny, gorgeous. There must be something really fucked up about her for Ed to need Carol the way he did. She was probably one of those frigid wives, one who wouldn't do anything fun in the bedroom, cold fish, completely unloving in private. Maybe she was a raging bitch prone to tantrums, like a secret psycho. A gold digger, even. Possibly completely superficial and air-headed, like one of the typical trophy wife bimbos these men often married. Maybe all of the above. Glancing at the half-empty glass in Helen's manicured hand, Carol suspected she was probably an alcoholic too. Why not? She seemed like she could totally be the type.

 

Yeah, there must definitely be something really, _really_ fucking wrong with Helen.

 


	2. new york tv week

It turned out that Helen was an honest to god secret psycho after all... and probably all of those other things as well. But the only certainty Carol had for absolute sure was that the crazy bitch totally fucked her out of the best job and best boss she'd ever had. Luckily and even though he didn't have to, Ed gave her a tip about a new job opening at a rival network which she had been rather well suited for as it turned out. But it had hurt when not only did Ed break up with her after almost a year of illicit office romance, but fired her as well.

 

Nothing about it was his fault though, because, as he told her, his wife was a certifiable psychopath. She found out about the affair, forced him to break up with her, fire her, and basically erase her from his life. Who did that? Who was really that insecure? Crazy people. And this particular crazy person had managed to ruin her life with her jealousy.

 

At least her new position at one of AMC's sister networks was exciting and a step up from where she was in Daytime Drama. When she thought about it, despite how much she enjoyed working for Ed, there wasn't much room to move up as an exec assistant. Her new job allowed her to actually work in development, to use her college degree, and she could finally see the path. She'd already been promoted twice in the last 2 years and it was possible that her career was finally moving in a good direction.

 

She couldn't give Ed's stupid wife credit for that though.

 

Her boss at BBC America, Nancy Wiezner, a 50-something year old woman with a shrill voice and towering figure was a bit of an asshole but she knew the industry inside and out and there was a lot to learn. Plus, she always took Carol along to networking events. Maybe she could be considered something of a mentor. And it had the added benefit of despite the lurid draw of undeniable power, Carol had zero interest in ruining this job with an interoffice affair with a woman. It felt good. A relief. At least she'd be spared the humiliating exit that inevitably would come when the affair ended.

 

At New York TV Week, she peered around the large banquet room, packed full of top-tier execs and television luminaries all milling about sipping 30-year-old scotch and fancy imported wine, and finally felt home.

 

The 'Top 40 Under 40' was something of a bittersweet event as Carol was certainly under 40 but not among those shining stars being recognized and rewarded this year. Instead, she got to sit with a perma-smile on her face as one after another, her peers were lauded on stage for whatever significant contributions they were making to the TV industry. She desperately wanted to just be happy for everybody else but with the competitive, power-hungry streak that sliced down her spine, there was no way to stuff away that lie and not die a little inside.

 

Near the end of the parade came a face she hadn't ever expected to see again. Her pulse raced as the fight or flight response flooded her bloodstream with anxiety-inducing chemicals. Up on stage to a round of applause was none other than the ex-wife of her ex-boss, just swaying towards the podium like some sort of self-assured, completely composed executive who had been doing this for years. Confidence was just dripping off of her, or perhaps it was arrogance. Whichever way Carol tried to see her, she couldn't get her knuckles to relax from the tense white grip they had on the program booklet in her lap. Next to her, Nancy kept glancing over at her and Carol really wished that she could crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

 

Helen, who was now going by the surname of Basch after their much gossiped about divorce from Ed, seemed to be doing just fucking fine. She looked good. Like _really good_. Better than she ever did in any of Ed's photos and clearly she was doing just peachy professionally. Carol's breath caught just a little and she swallowed hard, too confused and irritated to process anything else.

 

So, there was only one lie Ed had told her when confirming all the shitty things Helen was. He'd called her a poor intellectual partner. It was his certain way of saying, “She's stupid. She's not on our level.” By the sounds of it, she was anything but. The speaker talked about her years at Stanford studying business and finance, as a product marketer at mid-size tech firms and broadcasters, then as a national marketing director of some huge international alcoholic beverages conglomerate before joining the TV and entertainment sphere under the well-renowned Merc Lapidus at CBS, launching herself quite quickly to CMO from her start as marketing director of integrated acquisitions. They used trendy buzzwords like “growth champion”, “killer creative instinct”, and “new metrics visionary”.

 

That was definitely not a stupid woman up there. And she was also not a woman Carol would be able to escape any longer.

 

God, Carol sort of hated her. Really hated her. First she cost Carol a job; now she was stealing her thunder too. Fuck her. And there was probably no way that she'd ever be able to just hang around a cocktail dinner in Helen's company and not have to take some future boss aside to explain why this crazy woman was such a bitch to her all the time. Ugh. It was the worst. The booklet in her hand crumpled.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” It was Nancy's voice beside her in a sharp, puzzled whisper.

 

“Fine,” she ground out between clenched teeth, already dreading the coming afterparty.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out that Carol needn't have wasted any energy worrying about that. For the first time since she'd been fired from ABC, she came face to face with Helen fucking Basch, the woman whose marriage she helped destroy. Unsurprisingly, Helen had no problems remembering her.

 

As blood rushed in her eardrums and her stomach began clenching painfully on itself, Carol forced out a smile that hopefully didn't betray all the sheer terror she felt being in such close proximity to someone who's life she maybe ruined a little bit.

 

The part that threw Carol completely off guard was how genuine Helen's smile was, toothy and wide and the brown eyes that Carol expected to shoot deadly laser beams at her were unexpectedly warm.

 

“Carol, I remember you from my ex-husband's office.” It didn't sound angry, resentful, or anything even approaching irritated. Maybe those Daytime Emmys should have gone to Helen instead because she was one hell of an actress. As her lover's ex-wife embraced her in a friendly, familiar hug, Carol prayed that her racing pulse and shaking limbs weren't too noticeable. Just for a moment, Helen's rubbed a hand across her back, as if comforting a child and Carol's skin flushed hot with embarrassment as she pulled back. Helen had totally felt the anxiety bubbling inside.

 

“I'm so glad you're doing well for yourself.” Helen seemed full of nice things to say, and they came out sincerely, and obliviously. She was probably some sort of demon. No sane, non-psychopathic person could behave this way to the other woman who broke up a decade-long marriage.

 

Carol grimaced and congratulated Helen in the best falsetto she could manage. It didn't come as particularly honest but really, who was these days?

 


	3. the people's choice awards

When Merc Lapidus took over as president at the network, Carol knew that was precisely where she needed to be. After a few successful years building up her experience and resume at AMC to exemplary praise, she wanted bigger, better, more scope and more money. A lot more money and a nicer office. He was a charismatic hotshot known for taking smart chances on upstarts and new talent, building all sorts of revenue and recognition from what others may not see. If there was any executive that could get her where she needed to be, it was him.

 

Specifically setting herself up to run into Merc through Nancy, and other mid-level executives, had proven fruitful and within a week she'd secured herself a new position as Head of Current Programs, working under some pretty heavy-hitting executives. This wasn't some AMC sister company anymore; this was the big leagues, the Big Four. She put in her notice at AMC, packed up her small, windowless office, and walked into the network that would become both the bane of her existence and the doorway to the career she'd always wanted.

 

It took a ridiculously hard grind and a shitload of bald-faced lying for her to pull herself up those final rungs of the ladder but finally, a year and a half from joining the network, she was picking out modernist furniture for her huge, new, super bright office overlooking downtown LA. It felt fucking great to gaze down at her new business cards and see “Director of Programming” right there in nice bold letters. Next door was the actual president of the entire network. That was the real dream job, but for the time being she was happy just working for Merc, honing her skills and soaking up every invitation for every networking event and party she could get her paws on.

 

Second in command would do... for now.

 

And it felt good to walk into the People's Choice Awards knowing that she deserved to be there and how she was even responsible for some of these nominations in her own way. The show itself was so fucking boring, with the self-aggrandizing pseudo-intellectual speeches, blatantly fake smiles, and constant chorus of polite applause, and the trivial award categories seemed to make it drag even more. It probably wouldn't be a smart career move to fall asleep in her seat but there was very little to prevent that by the 2nd hour.

 

Now, obviously she'd run into Helen Basch over the course of the past few years and should no longer be a shock, always in the same ways with the same results—as if the whole shitstorm between them had never even happened. This time the domineering brunette happened to be a row ahead of her and off to the left and Carol swallowed hard as she attempted not to focus on the fact she was too close for comfort. Beside her, Merc was grumbling to his second wife, Janine with the crazy hair, about how uncomfortable his bowtie was and not for the first time since becoming his direct subordinate did Carol feel that itch. She recognized it well from those months before Ed first fucked her sideways on his plush brown sofa in his mahogany-covered office.

 

These men, with their grey hair, fancy titles, millions of dollars and absolute power tickled something inside her that she'd rather not dwell on, something about danger and absent fathers. Merc was just past 50, practically 20 years her senior, and still she would find herself daydreaming at work about the type of lover he would be. Probably attentive, tuned in to a woman's needs. If his hugs were any indication he wasn't afraid to put in effort. While his track record and last year's speedy divorce from Marlene didn't bode particularly well for him, Carol guessed it was Marlene's fault really. She always seemed too stuck up and image-conscious to be a good match for such a daring man. Janine was younger, but no less snotty and aloof. There were not nice women. He needed someone nicer, more fun, more agreeable.

 

Why did these women chose men who were clearly out of their league? And why did the men marry them when Carol knew she and others like her would be more than willing to take their places?

 

Glancing over, she caught a glimpse of Helen during her contemplation of the crappy wives of her bosses. Unfortunately it happened to be at exactly the same time the other woman was squinting around the area herself and their eyes met for a tense, brief second. Maybe the guilt was still plastered across her face because Helen didn't give her the normal, fake smile, like they had been acquaintances in a sorority or something. Instead, it was almost a glare but it was over by the time she blinked and it was almost as if Carol had imagined it completely. Her dress felt tight and her head was pounding suddenly because the last thing she wanted now was the wrath of an incredibly powerful woman who had just turned The CW around from it's bottom spot in the ranking of all influential major broadcasting networks. How she'd managed to claw her way to CEO of The CW in less time than Carol had been in the business overall was something that perhaps she'd never understand. It probably helped to have been born rich and privileged, not from a struggling middle-class family in buttfuck Michigan.

 

Faith Hill was onstage graciously accepting the award for something absolutely stupid like favourite hair. It was insane and she questioned why she was even there, other than because it was mandatory. As her blood pumped heavy through her veins and anxiety gripped her chest, she took a stuttering deep breath. Maybe now that Helen was boss she felt safe enough to hate again. It had taken years, but Carol was about to face the wrath of a woman scorned, just as she was entering the best, most tenuous part of her own career.

 

She needed out. Right away.

 

Climbing over her boss—and his wife—she snuck off outside and lit up a joint around back. The herbal aroma was calming and she could ignore, at least for a moment, the flood of crap that was bound to come her way from the scariest woman she'd ever met. Jumping only slightly when she felt a body next to her, a nervous laugh of relief bubbled out when she saw it was Merc.

 

“Janine's gone home. This thing's a joke, huh?”

 

“It's not that bad,” she attempted but the lie was way too obvious. Carol thought about the demon woman president of The CW just in front of them inside and shuddered. It was actually really, really, really bad and anything to get her through the next few hours would be a godsend. Then it was at that moment he glanced down at her fingers and noticed the spliff she'd been trying to hide, despite the obvious cloud of tobacco-less, pungent smoke. So to top off this terrible evening, she was pretty certain she was about to be fired for smoking drugs at a work function.

 

“Can I get a hit off that doobie?” Ignoring the fact that his dated word choice made his age abundantly clear they were from entirely different generations, she couldn't help that rush of warmth as a laugh broke through the tension.

 

And that's when that 5-year-long mistake had begun.

 


	4. man of the year

The night that forced her relationship with Merc to a grinding halt didn't exactly begin like any other evening because it happened to be his Man of the Year gala. She'd turned down her dream job out misplaced loyalty that most anybody else would simply call idiocy and she actually thought it could be the beginning of their life, together, like really _together_. No more Jamie. No more ocular blindness. He was up for some charitable award for, well, nothing was really clear. What Merc had to do with the L.A. Civic Opera was anybody's guess since he hated classical music, sitting still for prolonged periods of time, and giving money to anybody. Clearly, Jamie was really the person behind it all.

 

Vivaldi Award. Man of the Year. About-to-be-unemployed Man of the Year, and only she, Beverly, and Elliot Salad seemed to know it.

 

To say her nerves were frayed all night long would have been a gross understatement of the sheer anxiety her body was throbbing with. It was like overdrive, all the time, pumping her full of adrenaline and unrealistic expectation. He was going to divorce the cheating, blind bitch, they were going to be together, and nobody's feelings would be hurt by her taking her dream job. Elliot was going to fire him at some point and she'd have to deal with the fallout, but that was something they could totally work through together like a real couple. He'd move in her with her— _finally_. They'd wake up next to each other every day, share a pot of coffee in the morning, go to bed at night side by side, all the good, domestic stuff she'd always wanted with somebody.

 

Of course, it came at a price that she wasn't particularly happy to pay but she would if it meant that next time they ended up in this situation she would be the one able to kiss him as he came down off that stage. Instead, now he still went to Jamie during the waves of applause. It was her lips that he kissed, and her body that he touched, and her face that he smiled at—even if everyone in that room knew what a pathetic charade it was.

 

As the guests filtered out of the hall after the ceremony, Carol plastered on her best work smile, the one that she used when she almost hated her life but wasn't ready to give up just quite yet. The distraction of Merc's impending doom wasn't lost on her either.

 

At the time, she hadn't even really noticed that Helen Basch was at the event at all. Of course she was. For some reason that Carol had yet to even remotely understand, they were something like friends, Helen and Merc. Every time they ran into the woman—who was currently being praised by all sorts of industry leaders for turning around the USA Network from the trash pile it was—at an industry event, she always meant to ask the connection but like most things involving Merc, there was some random disturbance that took her attention away from the task at hand. It was like TV executive ADHD that left her hanging with vaguely uncomfortable unanswered questions. But, really, it didn't—or shouldn't—matter at all. It certainly had no bearing on anything in Carol's life in any way, shape, or form; it was just a mere curiosity... with a small, completely unnecessary whiff of misplaced jealousy. 

 

After gushing to Merc about his wonderful speech (which it was clear he totally didn't write himself) and his brush-off and preoccupation with his overfull bladder, she returned to the task of greeting guests on their way out, thanking them for their support of whatever pointless charity it was this time and of Merc himself. He was going to need all the friends he could get in the coming months. She would make sure of that for him; she'd be the one by his side.

 

Helen came into her vision suddenly, blocking her view of the imposing figure of Elliot for the time being. Again, the aggressively confident older woman opened her arms and went in for the hug as if they were old chums from university. As if she and Helen would ever have been in the same sorority let alone the same state for college. It was fucking weird, to be honest. Weird that occasionally it was like seeing an old friend, one of whom you knew back in the day but had grown apart from over time and now were basically strangers but couldn't stop the pantomime; it had been too long and too ingrained. Other times, it was very much like she was wearing a giant scarlet 'A' on her forehead, like she had been caught out as the other woman in a sordid middle-aged affair and was facing a simmering, quiet, deadly rage of his wife. Well, Ed was middle-aged. Neither she nor Helen had been but the fear was identical.

 

It was often a toss up which Helen she'd meet: the crazy psycho evil bitch one that Ed knew that freaked the fuck out when he cheated, or the crazy psycho completely nice facade that Helen put on in public? She'd only glanced at the former once or twice over the last 10 plus years but there was always the chance something would snap. At least she had no power to fire Carol any longer and she could breathe a little bit easier overall knowing that small miracle.

 

There were already so many things about to go wrong at this event, it was a relief when Helen's arms pulled her in. No death glare tonight. And again, instead of just letting go, there was a little, almost imperceptible squeeze as if the other woman could sense the tension in Carol's body. Maybe it was really obvious but nobody else had noticed. Then again, there was just that little extra agitation Carol felt whenever Helen was around, that sense of impending danger and insecurity, that stress as she fought her natural flight response. It was uniquely connected to the ex-wife of her ex-boss whose marriage she had broken up. It was totally reasonable and no amount of time could dilute the feeling because, essentially, Helen just became more powerful in the industry as the years passed. She'd probably end up on the executive board of the network one day and that would be the unceremonious end of Carol's shining career.

 

“Good to see you,” came the almost gravelly voice in her ear, right before pulling away and Carol studiously ignored the warm shiver that went down her spine. That must have been the fear sneaking out.

 

“Well, thank you for coming,” Carol tried, forcing a tight smile, pretending that she wasn't simultaneously relieved and on edge about the whole meeting.

 

“It's nice to see Merc being recognised for his contributions.”

 

Small talk was Carol's bread and butter but at the moment, she was drawing up a blank on how to keep the conversation going in a polite way. “Yeah.”

 

She was just one of hundreds of colleagues and acquaintances that had come to celebrate Merc then disappear moments later. An ephemeral face in a sea of literally hundreds. And quite frankly, Carol was only interested in seeing one man's face and taking him away from all this mess (and his wife) and into her safe, quiet home. The last thing she wanted was another reminder of her previous affair with a boss and how poorly that one ended.

 

Perhaps it had been an omen: Helen appeared, then things were over with Merc less than an hour later.

 


	5. the deposition

“Why is she here? They said she wasn't going to be here!”

 

Story of her life, really. Helen was never where she was supposed to be, at any point. She wasn't supposed to be at New York TV Week, or the People's Choice Awards, or Merc's gala, or that Paley Center thing, or at every single industry function Carol ever seemed to attend. Her name wasn't supposed to be on Elliot Salad's lips when he was talking about a new network president. She wasn't supposed to be right there, pressed against her lips at the office, then in the kitchen that morning after. She really wasn't supposed to be on that hiking path in Griffith Park when she'd said she was in New York or even at Vincente on Melrose when Carol finally made it out of the house after their ghastly breakup.

 

And now, Helen certainly wasn't supposed to be at the goddamned deposition. Fuck. Carol hadn't prepared for that part. Even with Beverly next to her, she hadn't got her nerves steeled quite enough to face her crazy ex head on, surrounded by lawyers and spend the day lying through her fucking teeth about how calm and confident she was. It was useless to pretend otherwise.

 

Helen wasn't supposed to follow them into the bathroom, or be standing there taking Carol's anger, without complaint, apologizing fervently, declaring her love, or kissing her more desperately and gratefully than she can remember ever happening. She wasn't supposed to still hug Carol like that, in that old way from so many years ago, like she actually cared. She definitely wasn't supposed be so happy that Carol was pregnant with some other person's baby, and that they'd raise the kid together. Maybe it was the hormones, or something else, but Carol could feel her knees shaking a little as her back hit the cold tiled wall, her eyes slipped shut, and Helen's mouth was hot and so soft on her neck.

 

None of this was supposed to be her reality. It was like one of those frustrating, confusing dreams she used to have in the nightmare aftermath of Helen dumping her. Except this time it was totally real and as much as it wasn't what Carol had ever imagined or expected, it sort of felt exactly like they were supposed to be like this. Maybe all those times running into Helen at event after event, year after year, it was one of those “meant to be” types of things. This was just the grand finale.

 

Muscles tensed and hard, her whole body seemed to freeze up at the mere idea that every little moment from sleeping with Helen's husband up until this exact point was some giant karmic trip that she had been powerless to change. Immediately, Helen stopped and backed away, concern etched into the lines of her face and fear sparkling just a little bit in her eyes.

 

“Sorry. Too much.” She held up her hands, wincing. Was it possible that Helen fucking Basch was actually scared of her?

 

Carol smirked a little and felt the pink flush rising up her chest and a strange mixture of relief and pride rushed through her blood and straightened her shoulders. It must be why people found power so addictive. “No, not that.” She reached out, nudging Helen back just enough to feel the nearness of the other woman. If it was humanly possible, it was almost as if she could hear the wild beating of Helen's heart. “I was thinking actually,” Carol murmured with a small sly smile, still revelling in this newfound control. “That I know I said slow like 2 minutes ago, but how about we start that bit tomorrow?”

 

Helen was so fucking close and this was such a stupid, terrible idea. Carol bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from doing any thing more and there was no mistaking the look on Helen's face as she glanced down at her lips, and her breath hitched before meeting Carol's eyes again. _Mmm_. _Power_. Had it always been this way and she'd just been too riddled with anxiety to notice, or was this a new thing? She really had to wonder if this had always been the case, at least around Helen. It seemed like a far-fetched fantasy but maybe there'd been a connection that they'd both been blind to from the beginning. Carol kind of liked the idea of long lost, hard won soulmates, and especially if this whole saga with Helen fed into that narrative like some sort of fairytale.

 

“If you're saying...” There was that pleased look on Helen's lips again, like she was privy to something incredibly exclusive. Maybe that quirk of her lips, that twinkle in her eye had something to do with pride too. Possibly even awe. Carol wasn't used to seeing that with anybody else and she'd missed it more than she realized over the past few months. A few minutes ago, she had made the wild claim that she had no idea Helen had been in love with her and, at the time, she honestly hadn't but looking at it freshly now, she asked herself again if maybe she had just missed the most obvious of cues. It was an easy thing to ignore, or miss completely, if you had no idea what to be looking for in the first place.

 

“I am.”

 

“Well, then... I am ready for _whatever_ you want.”

 

A moment passed as a twinge of nervousness sparked down her spine, feeling too familiar like all those other times she'd inadvertently run into Helen at various functions and had no idea what to say or how to behave. In retrospect, in the weeks they'd been together before, she'd considered herself stupid for even having those fears in the first place. But certain words, actions, reactions to people like Merc and Beverly, made her certain that her anxiety had been for good reason. Helen could turn on a dime from friend to very, very unwelcome foe. This time however, she knew there was no hidden meaning behind “whatever you want”. It wasn't a manipulative threat. It wasn't an implication that she could choose wrong; there was no need for carefully considered decisions. There'd been no part of the last half hour that Helen had been in charge and, honestly, Carol _really_ liked it like that. _A lot_. Her throat was a bit dry, her fingers trembling just a little bit, and her heart was beating faster by the second. Every part of her body thrummed with a pleasurable kind of excitement, an anticipation really. Something buzzing and throbbing she'd rarely felt. _Control_.

 

“I think,” she began, a grin twitching at the edges of her pink lips. Her fingertips grazed Helen's sleeves idly, just pulling forward the most minute amount. “We should just head back to yours.” She'd never been so forward in such a precarious situation before. There was that rush of warmth up her back as if this newfound power was literally some sort of physical drug. It was nothing short of addictive, and the trick now was to use it when she wasn't already assured that the outcome would be in her favor. That would come in time; she'd just practice on Helen for now.

 

The older woman looked her over carefully, visibly trying to refrain from smiling too much and part of Carol's chest felt tight and heavy, like she couldn't quite breath properly. Truthfully, she'd never properly noticed how important this was to her, how much she desperately needed Helen to look at her in just this way, like she couldn't see anything else in the world. A soft hand reached out, ran along the swell of her growing belly and again, Carol felt her breath catch and her legs tremble. It was too easy, too natural to feel this good and it was terrifying.

 

She didn't want Merc's hand there, even if it was his child too. She didn't want him waking up in the middle of the night to run to the 7-11 and get her Cheetos, black licorice, and Häagen-Dazs. She didn't even want him in the hospital, beside her bed as she pushed and screamed and cried a new life into the world. She didn't want him to give her tips on how to decorate the nursery or choose paint colors with her. None of that, not that it even mattered since Merc didn't want anything to do with raising another child anyway.

 

Helen was the one in her space now, one hand sliding around her waist, their breaths quiet and so close she could feel the warm puff on her cheek. There was soft kiss on her forehead, quite unexpectedly, and her eyes slipped shut as Helen's forehead came to rest against her own. For a fleeting second, she wondered how different life could have been had they just done this at one of those meetings years ago because like nothing else in her life, this felt really fucking _right_. Her hands grasped onto the lapels of Helen's jacket.

 

“I love you too, you know.” A whisper of truth. It didn't require anything more to be potent and stunning. Carol inched forward just enough to meet her lips to Helen's, with purpose, moving with surety and confidence in the wake a phrase she'd never said before. She'd always been the one to say it first, never quite knowing if it would be returned.

 

As Helen pulled back, Carol felt soft hands cupping her face. It was the safest feeling in the world. “I know.”

 


	6. in the morning

A warm breeze passed over the nape of her neck, sliding over her bare shoulders in the early light of a Wednesday morning. She reached back and pulled a supple, limp arm over herself and snuggled back into the comfort of a welcoming body. There was just something about the soft sound Helen made in sleep as Carol pressed her bare back against an equally bare chest. Last night had been particularly good, with the wine and weed and kid sleeping like a rock leading to hours of amazing sex and waking up curled in Helen's arms.

 

Carol had two minutes of quiet enjoyment of the morning before it was rudely shattered by a screaming child. There were times like this that Carol missed the regular easy morning peace she used to have with Helen, just the two of them, waking up slowly, maybe complemented by some incredible morning sex (Carol's personal favourite). Those uncomplicated, leisurely days seemed like a long time ago, in another life or a distant memory.

 

Now, instead, she had a little girl screaming at the door for attention and Helen flipping over quickly to grab their discarded pajama t-shirts from the previous night. As she pulled on her top, her daughter finally tired of waiting and burst into the room like a tiny little tornado of pigtails and frog pyjamas.

 

As she leapt onto the bed, she stumbled over Carol's duvet-covered legs and fell face first into Helen's lap, her small fist still clenched tightly around something. Clambering quickly, agile like a cat, she settled between the two women, her light brown hair coming loose from the pigtails Helen had so begrudgingly done the previous night. (Helen had a thing against pigtails herself but couldn't deny it to a child who begged and begged for them.)

 

“Mommy, look,” Hailey glowed, her hand slowly opening to reveal a tiny little tooth. “Mama said to keep it if it fell out and show you or else the Tooth Fairy won't come.” Carol glanced at Helen quickly and then down at the prize her daughter was holding with near-reverence and a gap-toothed grin on her face. “I didn't even feel it come out!”

 

“Why don't you go put that under your pillow now so you don't lose it?” Carol suggested, making a mental note to remember it was there. If there wasn't a crisp dollar bill in its place tomorrow morning, all hell would break loose.

 

As Hailey scampered off down the hall, Helen sighed and pulled on her boxers, chuckling to herself. “I figured it was going to come out any day now and you wouldn't want to miss that.”

 

Carol yanked on her own PJ bottoms and crawled closer, placing a soft kiss against her wife's lips. “Thank you.”

 

“Just you wait,” Helen smirked. “This is the easy one. Wait until you have to pull a stubborn tooth out and she's screaming bloody murder in your ear for absolutely no reason.”

 

As much as Carol sometimes brooded about the lack of personal time she and Helen had together between work and raising a child and dealing with everything else that a proper adult relationship entailed, she was consistently reminded how grateful she was to have the older woman beside her. Doing this alone, at the time before Hailey was born, seemed like a breeze. How hard could it really be? But when her daughter was wailing at all hours of the night for food or a diaper change as an infant, or through those trying toddler years, or even now, dealing with every little change, it really did make a difference not just to have someone to share the burden but who had done it all before and knew exactly what to expect.

 

Merc, although he was vaguely present in Hailey's life, would never have done this. They never would have been married, living together, dealing with another kid side by side. He popped in every so often with a present, and Hailey knew he was her father—but didn't seem to particularly care for the most part. He was more akin to a weird sort of Santa Claus that she happened to be related to. Who knew how that would change during the turbulent, hysterical teenage years in the future, but for the time being, Hailey was perfectly happy to have two moms, like it was completely normal. (And it was, really despite how Carol had to adapt her thinking just a little. This certainly hadn't been her grand plan 20 years ago when she pictured her life. There were two other kids in her daughter's class, one who had two moms as well and another who had two dads. It made things easier not to be the only one.)

 

There was a thudding as small feet came bounding back down the hallway and Hailey whipped around the doorframe. It was like she was turbo-charged at every second of the day and Carol often wondered if what had been a constantly buzz of anxiety in her had been passed down to her daughter as a different sort of perpetual, pulsing energy. The mattress fluttered again as she crawled onto it and settled between her moms.

 

“Done!” she announced proudly and waved her empty hands at them both.

 

“Great, I'm sure the Tooth Fairy will have plenty of time to rustle up some treasure for you by tomorrow morning,” Helen said evenly, sending a cheeky glance in Carol's direction. “You should tell your sister when she comes today.”

 

“Lexi's coming over?”

 

Helen nodded, pulling the little girl against her and relaxing back into the pillows. “Sure is. And she's going to take you out to the swan boats.”

 

Hailey's face lit up at the idea of a day out with her sister at Echo Park, and so did Carol's. It had to be said that the weekends where Helen's kids came down were a rare but welcome relief. Alexis particularly was wonderful with Hailey and always took her to some park or museum or movie to give Helen and Carol a much-needed reprieve.

 

“Surprise!” Helen grinned, winking at Carol who couldn't help noticing the small tingle of pleasure that cascaded through her body at the thought of an entire afternoon alone. Well, not _alone_ alone. Of course.

 

For a long moment, Carol simply watched Hailey talking to Helen about boats or fish or something and was struck—not for the first time—by how natural it all was. It was a strange sort of coincidence, or perhaps even serendipity, that Hailey didn't appear to really take much from Merc at all. If it was realistically possible, anybody who looked at Hailey could swear that she was their child, not his. She looked more like Helen than Merc and even when Carol herself saw photos of the three of them, she was struck by the resemblance. It was actually a bit freaky. Maybe that was the happiness.

 

A really long time ago, Carol would glance at those photos on Ed's desk and wonder about his boring-looking wife and plain-looking children, all so bland and forced. His family photos seemed staged and unreal in some way. But when Carol would glance around her own fancy, fucking huge office during moments of quiet, her gaze would drift towards similar photos. Except they weren't like Ed's at all. Some of the same people were in them, of course. Helen. Lexi and Ryan. But she'd stare at the one with Helen and Hailey and be struck with the stark difference between those old photos of Ed's and her new ones. The older woman that had simultaneously terrified and irritated her for so many years no longer looked tired, bored, plain. In her arms was a daughter that by blood was no relation, but nobody would be able to tell that from either of their expressions. While Ed's photos seemed staged in a department store photobooth, hers were natural and Helen was vibrant, alive and her daughter was beaming alongside her. Then there was her, with Helen and the 3 kids.

 

That group of people in those pictures was her actual family. Over 40 years to find it but there it was, in full color, like some sort of movie. It wasn't the perfect future family she'd seen in her dreams as a teenager. It wasn't even close to the family she'd pictured five years ago when she'd fallen pregnant by complete accident. However, it was probably the family she was supposed to imagine, years ago.

 

_It felt like I was waiting for you all my life and I didn't even know._

 

Even now, watching their daughter rambling on about swans and Frozen and Helen nodding, humouring her, she could still hear the words Helen whispered into her ear at their small, modest garden party that doubled as a wedding. (It had made adoption that much easier and the co-parenting thing, officially, was very high on Carol's list of priorities.)

 

That day had been full of nerves and Beverly patiently talking her down to reality when things got a little hairy. But by that time in the evening, in Helen's arms, swaying slowly to some sappy lovesong neither of them really knew with all her anxieties forgotten somewhere between the 3rd glass of wine and Helen's lips against hers in front of friends and family, she realized that they were both exactly where they were meant to be. The words felt heavier, and more important, than their public vows had been. Maybe it was because they were simple, or maybe it was because as soon as she heard them, Carol felt them in her bones as well like some old song she somehow knew the lyrics to by heart.

 

Hailey bounded off the bed with a flourish and a yelp, practically running in circles with excitement over going on the swan boats later. Announcing proudly that she was going to pick out what to wear for her day with Lexi, she scurried out of the room and there was a distant slam of a bedroom door.

 

When Carol turned to the person in the bed next to her, it was nothing like before. Her stomach didn't clench and twist uncomfortably and her throat no longer constricted as if she was attempting to hold back bile. That fight or flight response that had accompanied Helen's sudden appearances in her life for over a decade had died out years ago, in those few months before Hailey was born. Even the smiles that Helen passed her way felt different because there was no expectation that something was about to go horribly wrong; the paralyzing terror of the unknown disappeared completely. Instead, Helen inched forward, one hand sliding across Carol's thigh, and a soft kiss placed behind her ear. This time, the shivers that went up her spine and the goosebumps that broke out across her skin at Helen's nearness were of pleasure and security, not fear.

 

It was easy to turn into her kiss, clasp two hands around her jaw and ease Helen back down into the pillows. This was exactly where they were both supposed to be.

 


End file.
